Why I Suck at Hornblower fic...
by asha- c
Summary: Written for a challenge on a list, never to be completed.


Title: Liquorice whip  
Author: me, em.  
pairing: not telling  
setting: Edrig Hall, a grocers store, some cottage...  
rating: well pretty much P.G. or G. I guess  
warning: this is my first ever story so it could be a little, well,  
dodgeoir!  
Oh and slash, and lots of it, soon!  
misc: I really really should be studying  
feedback: believe me I could use a few pointers, suggestions, whatever, be  
gentle!  
email: emsparemail@yahoo.com  
Thanks to C.S. Forester and A&E for letting me use these characters without  
their knowledge, shibby!  
  
  
We begin our story in a large country estate in the heart of England's Lake  
District. The hero (or heroine depending on his mood) of our tale sits at  
his ancient writing desk, carved incidentally from an incredibly rare  
hardwood smelling faintly of musk (but that's another story). The fine point  
of his quill scratches erratically over the surface of the finest parchment  
money can buy... our hero is a man of exquisite taste. He finishes writing,  
blots the paper, folds it and seals it with a flourish. Crossing the lush  
carpet of the study in three easy strides, he goes out into the hall and  
drops the letter on the hall table with the rest of the days mail for the  
butler to post in the morning. Then up the stairs with a self-satisfied  
smirk curling his dashingly aristocratic lips, our hero makes his way to the  
master suite at the end of the hall, and to bed...naked.  
  
  
A grocers shop in a small town somewhere in the lake district:  
Mister Knowles Sir?'  
Yes lad?'  
Who's this Mister Edrington then?'  
That's Lord Edrington lad. He's the one what owns that big estate over  
yonder. His butler's James, comes in ere every Tuesd'y and Wensd'y..'  
Right...'cos...um... I was just wonderin'...'  
What is it lad? Out wiv it!'  
What would he be wantin' with two gallons of extra (eh hem) Virgin Olive  
Oil, two thousand licorice straps, one hundred ounces of cookin chocolate,  
thirty paintbrushes and a chickin?'  
Our good shopkeeper pauses... can't rightly say that I know lad.'  
  
Meanwhile...  
( well to be honest, the next morning)... in a quaint little cottage  
outside Portsmouth there is the delicate scent of gardenias in the air...  
the larks are trilling, the sheep in their pastures bleat gently and the  
rose-fingered dawn gently caresses the soft skin of our two young lovers  
through their window as they sleep. One stretches and yawns, delicately  
opening his (damn can't tell you what colour eyes, don't want to give the  
game away)...delicately opening eyes quick to sparkle with impishness at the  
thought of a new day. Creeping out of the covers so as not to wake the  
other, he slips on yesterdays trousers discarded by the door and steps  
outside. Taking deep breaths of fresh spring air, sun catching the fine  
golden curls on his chest, he looks down and spots a letter lying on the  
grass in the morning dew.  
  
Wake up, wake up, we've got a letter'  
Sleepier than our first, this one takes a while to rouse, our boy shakes  
him...   
You'll never guess who this is from'  
The barely suppressed excitement snaps our second lover awake out of the  
most delicious dream, he sits up suddenly NOT INTO THE HULL DAMMIT!!' looks  
around frantically then realizes where he is.  
What? Were you saying something about a letter?'  
Our first lover giggles, kisses the now wide awake other and shoves the  
unopened letter in his hand;  
Open it, I'm desperate!'  
Later sweet buns, lets have a look at this letter first shall we?'  
A playful punch, and several bruising kisses later...  
God's nightgown _____, it's from Edrington!'  
I know, I know, now open it damn you, or its a spell in the rigging  
lubberboy!'  
Our excited boys paw open the letter...  
  
To our darling boys,  
Lord Edrington and I have decided to have a masked ball on All Hallow's  
Eve.   
Please come and drink a glass of wine with us. A prize to the best dressed  
couple. More prizes to the person or pair whose identity we cannot guess.  
(No   
fair, Sir Percy!) BTW, the children will be at Grandmama's. All costumes or  
lack thereof will be allowed.  
Bring a hearty appetite and a change of clothes for the morning HUNT! That  
is, for those of you who don't spend the whole night hunting about Edring  
Hall...  
Enjoy all we have to offer,  
Edrington and Lady Margaret Catherine.  
  
Our boys look at each other bubbling with high spirits... what are they  
going to wear?  
  
Semi-finis  
  
In our next installment...  
The boys find their costumes, the lord and lady make their preparations, and  
we read the story in a different tense..how exciting..I'm all aflutter.   



End file.
